Dinner with the Family: Infestation
by ShadowThorne
Summary: A few years after the Aizen incident, Grimmjow and Ichigo are comfortably back on the job, serving their malicious boss and happily killing those in his way as Shirosaki's family grows ever more powerful. However, the Don faces unknown opposition and a rat finds it's way into the mansion. GrimmIchi mentioned ShiroSzayel (and hinted others). Violence/blood. Smut


**Before you go any further! This takes place after Dinner with the Family (and obviously after the prequel as well). If you've never read either of those two, this still shouldn't be too hard to understand and enjoy but there are a few little mentions of past events. Still, I would recomend at least reading the original Dinner with the Family first.  
**

**Anyway! I just can't leave this AU alone... honestly, I adore it and it always sits at the back of my mind and sometimes random ideas for it spontaneously bug me. Sooo, here's one of those ideas! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

A lean body was eased back to lay flat against the long, dark wooden table. Raising his arms, his shirt, the last of his clothing, was pulled from his thin torso as a darkly colored tongue ran along the grooves and dips of the quivering, subtle muscle of his abdomen. White lips pulled into a smirk, wide and over-bearing to most, as his partner's breath hitched in his exposed throat.

The small intake of air turned into a low, keening moan as something cold brushed his entrance, than pressed forward. The smooth metal of a dangerous man's gun pushed through the tight ring of muscle at his rectum, stretching him and preparing him for something more. The cold of the barrel soothed the burn of the stretch and had him panting, quickly bringing him passed the point of being able to plead for more.

The small click of a shutter from an expensive camera sounded far too loudly in the tense silence just on the other side of a mostly closed door. The man standing behind the camera's lens held his breath, hands shaking slightly as he froze, waiting to see if the sound would be heard, but the two he watched were busy and distracted with one another.

Wrapping leanly muscled arms around the slim but taller male, the Don pulled back, bringing his partner with him. Seating himself in the high backed, powerful looking chair at the head of the table, Shirosaki pulled the other into his lap. Long legs straddled his bare, milky thighs. The Don grinned up at the man in his lap, reaching up to tangle black nailed fingers in the silken hair at the back of the man's head.

Another snap of a photo being taken went unnoticed. It was late for a member of the mafia, the sun was high into the morning sky and the world of the day was already bustling with hard working men and women. Most of the people in Don Shirosaki's mansion were at rest and those that weren't were busy at their guard posts. The Don and his favorite lover were alone in the dining hall, or so they thought.

Shiro connected their lips as he shifted, lifting the man slightly as he pulled their torso's flush. The other man's back arched, his head falling back as a gasp left his pink lips and Shiro's hard member brushed against his own. Shiro finally pulled his unloaded gun away and laid it on the table's top, drawing a wonton whimper from his lover.

Another click.

The man's body went rigid, the lean muscle of his abdomen and back tightening and flexing as he was lowered, sheathing the Don's cock within himself. Shirosaki's lilting moan covered two more clicks as he buried his face in the man's chest and his nails dug red lines down a lightly tanned back. Sinking his teeth into the flesh before him, Shiro lifted the man again before snapping his hips upward. The swift, forceful thrust elicited something near a pleasured scream, though the sound was muffled as the man covered his own mouth, elegant brows furrowing and eyes squeezing shut.

Shiro breathed a husky chuckle and thrust again.

Later that night, after catching a few hours of much needed sleep before getting up to begin his work once more, Don Shirosaki sat in his office. He sighed and pushed a small stack of papers to the corner of his desk, wondering why he didn't just have Ishida go through the formalities of his day job crap like usual. The Don was far better suited to running the underworld, to making threats and deals and playing with taboos. Throw him into a deadly situation and he was fine. Gunfire, other mob bosses, let him deal with people trained and built to kill, with blood and guts and the screams of the dying, but make him sit behind a desk and Don Shiro was out for the count.

He was just about to admit defeat and call his secretary in to do the rest of it for him when someone pounded on his office door. The knock was light, dignified, as it always was when Ishida felt the need to disturb him in his office, but this time there was an underlying sense of urgency. The normally almost subtle knocking was a bit louder, a bit quicker than normal.

"Come on in," Shirosaki called through the door, kicking his feet up on his desk and leaning back in his plush office chair. "I was just 'bout ta have ya come get this damn paper work."

"My apologies, Sir, but I think that will have to wait." Ishida entered quickly and shut the door behind himself. He bowed slightly before pulling a manilla envelope from where his hands had been folded behind his back, laying it on the Don's desk. "This was delivered not long ago. You may wish to open it sooner rather than later."

Ashen brows furrowed slightly as Shiro glanced down at the unmarked envelope, noting it had already been unsealed. A single brow rose as he trained his inverted gaze back at his secretary. It was normal for Uryu to open his mail, even the simplest junk mail, and Shiro really didn't mind anymore. It was a precaution he learned had the potential to be rather important as he climbed higher up the food chain, but that didn't stop him from tormenting his poor secretary about it.

Ishida backed away to the door and bowed slightly, preparing to take his leave, though he wouldn't be going far. "Yes, Sir, I-I opened your mail as usual." He said, dark eyes avoiding the pale man's gaze, before exiting. Once out in the hall, he eased the boss's office door shut and stood before it, preparing for the call he would ultimately be getting any minute.

Still seated at his desk, Shiro frowned slightly at the other man's strange reactions before pulling the envelope from his desk. It wasn't usual for Ishida to get worked up over such things and Shiro couldn't help but wonder about it. The secretary had learned long ago to recognize when Shiro was only attempting to get a rise out of him and he'd grown quite good at foiling the Don's attempts. This time, however, Shiro had hardly even needed to try.

Feet still propped on the desk's edge, he laid the envelope across his tailored slack clad thighs as he opened it and began pulling the documents it contained out. He was faced with blank, white sheets of heavy, glossed paper and frowned slightly before flipping the thick papers over. What stared back at him made him freeze, his gold on black eyes widening. He flipped through the high quality photos quickly, a sneer spreading across his face. The expression only deepened as he pulled a sheet of paper from between the photos, reading over the brief message and the demands it contained.

"Ishida!" He snarled out, nearly screaming the secretary's name. Rage colored his lilting voice, seething and volatile and very unhappy as it burst from the office and echoed down the hall. No one threatened him and his and got away with it. No one.

Out in the hall, Uryu winced at the shout even though he had been expecting it, having seen the photos before the Don himself had. He straightened his tailored jacket and pushed his wireframe glasses back up his thin nose as he turned and reentered the office. "Shall I send for Dr. Granz, Sir?"

"Yes!" Shiro practically hissed as he stood from his chair, letting it roll back to slam into the wall behind him, paperwork forgotten. Eyes wide, brows furrowed and white lips pulled into a vicious snarl, he slammed his hands down on the top of his desk, staring down at the photos spread across it's top. "Get him here now! I want guards in tha' car."

"Of course, Sir." Ishida bowed and turned to rush out the door and carry out his orders. He was halted by his boss's voice, though.

"Actually, send Kenpachi wit the car, an' send Grimmjow and Ichigo my way, but keep this quiet fer now." This time, his voice was deadly and low. His eyes were still trained on the photos but the fire and anger that swirled there was easy to see all the same.

Ishida suddenly felt bad for whoever the culprit turned out to be. The perpetrator clearly didn't understand just who it was he was attempting to push around. The Don's secretary bowed slightly and quickly disappeared from the office to make his way down the hall. He first made the arrangements to have one of the Don's drivers retrieve the man's personal doctor, knowing that small aspect was a bit more pressing than gathering the hitmen.

After the car was in route, the second team's Hunter accompanying the driver and headed directly for the doctor's estate with haste, he turned back toward the inner mansion. The first team wasn't hard to find and he had a sneaking suspicion he was interrupting the two deadly men, but the Don's orders were more than clear so he knocked once before throwing the unlocked door open.

Grimmjow sat upon the couch in their small seating area, shirtless and grinning. His blue eyes slid over to the opened door as Ichigo's features tinted a light shade of red and he quickly, discreetly fixed his pants.

Ishida cleared his throat in the most refined way possible and ignored the heated feel of the room. He didn't bow like he did to the boss, but his mannerisms were no less polite.

"The Don wishes for your presence. It's urgent." He told them before excusing himself. He didn't miss the look that passed between the two infamous men as the lust in their expressive gazes cleared and gave way to a cold, hard glint almost immediately. He wouldn't need to escort them, and so he left as they both climbed to their feet and Grimmjow pulled his black shirt from the back of the couch.

Grimmjow shrugged back into his shirt as they traversed the hall, the few people they passed giving them plenty of space after noticing the set scowl on the high-standing Handler's features and the spark that lit his Hunter's cold eyes. They entered the powerful albino's office without knocking, pushing the door open and preparing for the worst.

Shirosaki was still glancing over the photos but had managed to calm himself enough to sit once more. He looked up at his favored team as he shuffled through them for a moment more, saying nothing, before holding them out to Ichigo.

Ichigo took the stack, his orange brows furrowed as he held the Don's gaze and took in the man's carefully controlled features. He wore a mask of calm that Ichigo had only seen a few times but understood quite well. That look told Ichigo everything he needed to know: the Don was on the verge of murder and didn't know who he was supposed to be killing. There would be blood, though, even if it was the Don's own.

Finally dropping the Don's gaze, he glanced down at what had been handed to him. His ears instantly went red, his eyes widening as he looked at the top picture. In it, Shirosaki sat naked in one of the dining hall chairs, a certain doctor straddling his waist, equally unclothed with his back arched and his head thrown back, pink hair cascading down his narrow shoulders. Ichigo quickly flipped to the next photo, seeing more of the same. He flipped through the stack, at least a dozen photos, before looking back up at the Don.

Grimmjow looked over the smaller man's shoulder as Ichigo flipped through the photos. He quickly reached around Ichigo and pulled one out of the stack, holding it up for closer inspection, not nearly as shy as Ichigo. He tilted his head slightly as he studied the picture, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Some of these are actually pretty good, boss, but the doc? I wouldn't have guessed that..." His eyes narrowed slightly as he rotated the photo, looking at it upside-down. "Is that your gun?"

Ichigo nearly choked on the air he was breathing, his face darkening even more. Shiro's features, however, remained a controlled blank as he watched the reactions of his hitmen.

"He's pretty." Was all he said in answer to Grimmjow's inquiry, not that he really had to justify himself or answer the man at all if he didn't want to. But Grimmjow and Ichigo were like brothers to him, so he held no reserves about showing something so personal to them. "An' yes, tha's a gun. My favorite one, actually."

Still looking at the photo he had selected out of the stack, turning it so it faced the right way up again, Grimmjow's sever brows rose slightly as he tilted his head and nodded a subtle motion in agreement. Shiro could certainly have chosen a worse partner, and he got bonus points for creativity with the gun. He finally placed the photo back on top of the stack still held in Ichigo's hands and looked up at his boss. "Who was your photographer?"

"I guess tha's the problem here." Shiro said, his lilting voice low as he stood from behind his desk, unable to sit any longer as pent up energy and anger made itself obvious. His golden irises danced with a manic rage that said he was about to burn down his own home. "It seems we got a rat in the mansion."

As the words left him, the door to the office was eased open as an almost hesitant knock sounded from the outer frame. Dr. Granz straightened in the doorway, his intelligent eyes darting over the two hitmen before settling on the Don's form. None were injured, none seemed in need of him. The barest hint of a frown tugged at his lips but he did well at keeping his features neutral, haughty even, as he stepped into the office, turning slightly to glance at the hulking man standing behind him.

"Have a seat, Szazy." Shiro bid the slim man. He dismissed Kenpachi, thanking him for his timely work.

Szayel did as he was told, carefully lowering himself into one of the chairs that sat before the Don's large desk. He crossed one leg over the other and quickly studied the other men in the room. Ichigo studiously avoided his gaze as the Handler sat the stack of photos face down on the desk while Grimmjow's angular features pulled into a large, crazed grin that bared his teeth when he caught the doctor's amber gaze. It was a predatory expression, something he'd seen cause the Don's enemies great discomfort.

The Don pulled a cigarette from a carton that had been sitting on his desk. The quiet flick of his lighter pulled his Hunter's gaze away from his lover and drew everyone's attention back to him. Letting them watch him quietly, he inhaled deeply as he lit the cigarette and re-pocketed his lighter. Pulling the stick from between his pale lips, he blew out a ring of smoke before he spoke, his words aimed at his top team of killers. "I want this ta stay quiet, at least fer now. No one needs ta know I'm searchin' the mansion and tip off the rat, got it? I'm sure he already knows we got the pictures by now but there's no reason ta make 'im panic and think tha' I ain't listenin' ta the demands."

Grimmjow and Ichigo nodded, not saying a word as they shifted back into work mode and mentally readied themselves for the job they both knew was coming. For the moment, the Don ignored the pink haired doctor and Szayal didn't question it or what was going on, having learned that when concerning business, he would only be told what he needed to know, nothing more and nothing less.

"I'll have Ishida give ya a list a employees fer ya to begin with. He'll be takin' these," The Don reached over and snagged the photos from where they sat in front of Ichigo. "an' runin' an analysis ta see if he can find where they were printed, wha' kinda camera and all tha' shit."

Shiro paused, looking from deep brown eyes to the cool blue ones. "I wan' 'im alive, boys. He's gotta be workin' fer someone."

A wicked grin crossed Grimmjow's features and a sharp glint lit Ichigo's face as well. The two bowed slightly and left, eager to begin their covert hunt within the mansion's walls.

Finally, Shiro turned toward the pink haired doctor, the hard, angered glint in his inverted eyes softening just a bit. He took another pull from his cigarette and handed the photos over to Szayel as he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. He made a quick call to his secretary, summoning the man once more as well as giving him instructions on making that list for Ichigo.

"Oh my..." Szayal flipped through the photos, scanning them quickly before moving to the next. "I suppose this explains the lack of call and the need for your beast of an escort."

Shirosaki chuckled and nodded. "Looks like yer stayin' wit me until we catch whoever's signin' tha' death certificate."

"Is this actually a threat, Sir? I honestly didn't think it would bother you to have knowledge of those you slept with made public..." Szayel passed the photos back, leaning back in his chair as he spoke to his boss and lover.

Shiro shrugged. "It don't normally and before ya jump ta girly conclusions, it's not coz I'm ashamed a sleepin' wit' ya er somethin' stupid like tha' tha' I mind this time 'round."

The Don rolled his eyes but chuckled slightly as Szayal arched an elegant brow at him.

"Usually I'd say fuck it an' let the bastard sell the photos to the highest bidder coz I don' care much 'bout most a the people I've taken as lovers, but if these photos get leaked ta a rival family, they'll come fer ya ta get ta me."

"And that really bothers you?" Szayel was a bit skeptical. He held no illusions. Shirosaki was the Don of a very powerful family. The albino could have anything or anyone he wanted.

"A course it does." Shiro leaned forward over his desk, hooking his fingers under the other man's chin. "Who would patch me an' my boys up when we get shot at? I'd be loosin' my best doctor an' favorite lover."

"That's all very flattering, Sir, but-"

Szayel was silenced as Shiro's porcelain lips slid over his own in a heated kiss. "But nothin'. There ain't no buts in this business. Yer stayin' here 'till Grimmjow and Ichigo find the paparazzi and whoever's payin' him's dead."

"I assure you I can take care of myself, Sir. I rather like staying in my own estate." Szayel tried to insist, using long fingers to push his hair back as his honey colored eyes searched the golden ones before him through the immaculately clean lenses of his glasses. "I have guards of my own, men that you appointed when I took this job."

A quiet knock pulled both men's attention to the door as Ishida pushed it opened and entered. He cast a single glance upon the Don and doctor before letting out a small, nearly soundless sigh. "First I interrupt your team, and now you. Don't you have more important things to do?"

The look that crossed the pale don's face was a bit disconcerting as the albino pulled away from the doctor. Redirecting his attention back to Szayel, he said, "Don' argue wit' me anymore, tha's dangerous. Yer stayin' here until I _let_ ya go back."

Pushing the cigarette back between his lips, the Don inhaled as he began replacing the photos in the envelope they'd been given to him in. "Who delivered 'em?" He asked, the stick in his mouth bouncing with his words and he handed the envelope to his secretary.

"A little girl, Sir, paid off in candy to crawl through the gate and walk them up here."

"Are ya shittin' me? Ya gotta be shittin me." Shirosaki ran a hand back through his long hair, the ashen locks left loose to cascade over his shoulders for a change. Blowing out another ring of acrid smoke a wide, mocking smirk spread across his lips. "Ya know, this is actually pretty funny. A lil kid? Tha's a good one. Can' keep an' interrogate a damn child!"

The last of his words were a snarl as he slammed a fist down on the top of his desk, his manic temper flaring dangerously. He stood from his chair, swiping half the objects and papers on his desktop off and onto the floor as rounded the desk and stormed passed his secretary and the doctor to leave his office. The door slammed in his wake, banging off the wall, the knob punching a hole through drywall.

The silence in the room was deafening for a few moments but neither of the remaining two men were put off by the Don's outburst and temper, having grown used to it early in the Don's career. Dr. Granz finally climbed to his feet and gracefully straightened to his full hight, flipping his shoulder length, pink hair out of his face.

"I think a few anger management classes would do him well." The doctor said as he moved to leave the office, his voice taking a superior tone like usual.

"I've been trying to tell him that since he inherited the family." Ishida snorted a small, derisive laugh and also made to leave the Don's office. He pulled the door shut behind himself, leaving the mess for later. At the moment he had a few more things to go over before he had time to clean up after his boss.

Shirosaki was accorded a wide birth by those he passed in the halls of his mansion. If his staff thought the first team was scary during the trek the hitmen had made not long ago, the Don was down right terrifying. Shirosaki wasn't exactly a large man, but he more than made up for it. If his reputation, whispered in fearful voices in the dark of night, didn't do the trick, than his manic temper and his unhesitant style and ruthlessness certainly would. It was said that the top mafia families had the pitbulls of hitmen to do their killing. If that were so, than Shiro's men were hellhounds and he himself just as blood thirsty and deadly.

By the time he made it to the training room, the whole of the mansion seemed to hold it's breath. The bang of the opening doors was accompanied by his lilting snarl as he strode through, reaching toward his collar to begin angrily tugging his tie loose. He pulled his pristine, white jacket from his shoulders, draping it across one arm as he began working the buttons on his dark colored, silk shirt he wore below it, revealing the smooth, pale skin of the top of his chest.

"Shall I send for your usual sparring partner, Sir?" One of the lower ranking members in the training facility asked, his voice a bit meek and timid in the face of the boss' seething temper.

"No. First team's busy." Shirosaki snapped, his tone sharp as he tied his long, white hair back with jerky, furious motions. "Get in the damn ring."

The poor man's eyes widened as he shot the few others in the room a nervous look. It was common knowledge among his family that the Don was just as versed in all the things his men learned as they were, but he rarely sparred against anyone other than his usual partners; the first team. The man he now sent into the ring had no way of knowing how far he should go, whether he should fight with the same force and aggression reserved for his usual partner, what the repercussions would be if he accidentally hurt the boss. Yet at the same time, if he held back the Don would surely know and in his already foul mood, that could be just as disastrous to his health. It might even earn him an early termination.

Beside the nervous man, another smirked and whispered under his breath, "Better call for the doctor."

Back on the main floor of the mansion, Grimmjow and Ichigo stalked the hallways toward the front doors. Already there were whispers of the Don's foul mood and speculations about what had caused it. They were given plenty of room by those around them as they made their way toward Ishida's office, business mode showing openly in the set of their features and the flash in their eyes.

As they made it to the glorified secretary's office door, Ichigo raised his closed fist to knock and Grimmjow grunted a laugh. The big Hunter pushed the door open, unannounced, and Ichigo's hand fell short as sent his partner a look. The blue haired man raised a brow, looking down at his Handler, and let a cocky smirk cross his handsome features as he held the door and waved Ichigo in first.

Rolling his brown eyes slightly, Ichigo fixed a confident expression across his own features and entered, unaffected by the indignant glare being sent their way by Ishida. "You've a list for us, Uryu?" Ichigo straightened his fitted jacket before crossing his hands behind his back, looking proper and nearly regal as a man of his standing should.

The assistant sighed a near silent breath, adjusting his glasses with a single, thin finger. He didn't deign to answer the high standing Handler's question as he turned away from the family's most infamous pair. Shuffling through a few piles of papers, he pulled out several sheets, straightening them before passing them over.

Ichigo accepted the small stack, flipping through a few pages and glancing at the long list of names he and Grimmjow would begin going through. The list held the name of every man and woman employed by the Don, whether they actually lived within the mansion's walls or not. They were organized into two different groups, however, to keep things quick and simple; those that had the clearance needed to enter the mansion without the Don's express permission and those that didn't. The individual lists were organized from newest family member to the one with the most seniority.

"I didn't realize Shiro had so many people workin' for him." Grimmjow grunted, looking over Ichigo's shoulder.

To that, Ishida said, "He heads an ever expanding family and controls multiple cities, of course it's a long list." The dark haired man hummed a small sound, as if just thinking of something, and turned back to his desk to rifle through a separate stack of papers. A couple more sheets were added to the small book Ichigo already held. "Some of don Byakuya's men have permission to enter the mansion, as well as Miss Nelliel and a few of hers."

Ichigo sighed. "Well it seems we've got our work cut out for us then."

"Indeed." And for just a moment, Ishida's haughty attitude dropped as he looked at the two hitmen. "Kurosaki, Jaegerjaquez... This is the first time anyone has managed to infiltrate Shirosaki's family...this vermin is a traitor and a danger to our boss..."

A set of blue brows and set of orange furrowed, both the Hunter and the Handler understanding Ishida's meaning. They both nodded and Grimmjow rumbled in a low voice, "The bastard wont get a chance to hurt the boss. We're the best for a reason."

Ichigo nodded his agreement and added, "And should we require assistance, we'll let you know, Uryu."

"Very good." The secretary turned away from the first team, adjusting his glasses as he went back to his work. "Oh, Shirosaki wishes you report to him with your findings before you take action."

Ichigo and Grimmjow nodded their understanding and turned to leave, list in hand. They had a lot of work ahead of them, but finding a place to start would be helpful. Once they narrowed their list down, picking their way through the ranks shouldn't be horribly difficult, more tedious than anything. So they made their way through the halls and toward the training room, where their boss had been headed earlier.

They pushed the doors open to the vast room to witness the crowd that had grown around the center training ring. Those that had previously been sparring and training now crowded around the Don and his unfortunate partner. Half crouched in the very center of the large room, the pale young man that headed the powerful and growing family circled round with a lower ranking Handler. Shirosaki had discarded his shirt and stood barefoot in the ring, wearing only his tailored, white dress slacks. His long hair had been tied back in a messy, quick tail to keep it out of his face and sweat streaked his pale skin. His features were twisted into a vicious grin as his men cheered and hissed.

Grimmjow cocked a brow and led the way through the small crowd, quickly making a path for himself and his Handler to the front row. Just as they did, Shiro sprang into action again. The man he was sparring against threw a desperate, wild right hook that the Don deftly deflected. Shirosaki halted his forward momentum, pushing off the ground with his planted right foot while he swung the left around. His spinning kick caught the lower ranked Handler in the chest and knocked him from his feet. As the man landed upon the smooth concrete on his back, Shiro landed in an easy stance, balanced on the balls of his feet.

His inverted, gold on black eyes panned away from the man in the ring -currently trying to roll over and climb back to his feet- and landed upon his most prized Hunter and Handler.

"Ah, yer lucky day." The Don purred, straightening and walking to the edge of the ring. He grabbed a hand towel from where it'd been draped on the thick, bungee rope of the ring. Wiping the sweat from his face, he stooped to slip between the ropes and dropped to the ground before Grimmjow and Ichigo. Looking at the two, only traces of his previous anger remaining, he smirked and added, "Seems the calvary's arrived."

As expected, the crowd began to disperse as the Don left the ring. Those that didn't quickly removed themselves from Shiro's and his favored team's path as the three men made their way back to where the Don had left the majority of his clothing.

"I know you boys are fast, but ya can't possibly have a name for me yet." The colorless man said in a low tone as he worked his expensive, silk button up back over his arms and shoulders. He didn't bother to button it as he pulled his shoes back on.

"No, Sir." Ichigo conceded as they made for the exit. His voice just as quiet as the boss's had been, insuring that no one would overhear their private business. "We were hoping you could help us out a bit in narrowing our search."

The Don hummed a sound of understanding and nodded, navigating the halls of his mansion. They walked the rest of the way to his office in silence, and only began getting down to business once the door was closed behind them. Shiro draped his tie and vest over the back of his desk chair as he seated himself on the desk's edge, folding lean arms over his pale chest. "Alright, what can I do ta help ya then? Anythin' ta rid my home a pests."

"Have you spoken to don Kuchiki yet, by any chance, Sir?" Ichigo asked, his voice taking on it's usual polite and professional tone. He was always respectful toward the boss despite that Shiro probably saw himself and Grimmjow more as friends than underlings.

"I haven't. But that's not a bad idea. Could be that this is even bigger than just lil old me." Shirosaki bent over his desk and pulled one of the drawers open, pulling his personal cellphone from it's depths. Activating the screen, he quickly found Byakuya's number and put the phone on speaker, allowing his team the privilege of listening and speaking with the other mobster.

The phone rang all of two times before a calm, dignified voice drifted quietly through the speakers, "Good evening, Sir."

"Evenin', Byakuya, hope ya've been doin' well." Shiro greeted the lower ranking don in return, being polite and formal like high standing and powerful crooks often were. "It's been quite a while, we should do dinner sometime."

"Yes, Shirosaki, I agree." The other don said, no doubt sitting in the safety of his own mansion while he sipped tea. "Rukia has taken to handling my agenda: I'll have her call Mr. Ishida so a date can be set."

"Excellent." But as formal and polite as the two were, Shiro didn't skirt around the reason he'd called for long. "I got Ichigo and Grimmjow here wit' me, Byakuya, and we got a few questions for ya."

"How might I be of use, then, gentlemen?" The lower don asked, his form and voice just as smooth as Shirosaki's own. He'd headed his own family for quite some time, and worked alongside Shirosaki's since the pale young man had become don less than a half dozen years ago. He understood how best to deal with the temperamental albino and still adhere to typical mafia policies.

"We were wonderin', ya had any unwelcome..._business_ lately?" The pale don asked, his unique gaze trained on his favored team. They were nearly impossible to read, as they always were when one or the other wasn't injured and in danger of dying.

There was a very short pause on the other end of the line, before Byakuya's voice filtered through, showing just the slightest bit of curiosity and confusion. "No... I can't say that I have. All's been going rather well lately, as to be expected. Why do you ask, if I may inquire?"

"Course ya can." Shiro told him, but the cheery lilt to his tone didn't do well at disguising his less than amiable mood. "But first; ya have anyone sneak out lately? Saaaay..." The Don ran his fingers through his white hair, tugging the messy tail out while he narrowed his eyes in thought. "bout two nights ago? Someone wit' high enough clearance ta get through my guards wit'out my express permission?"

"Hmm, no, most certainly not." Byakuya's slight frown was audible in his voice. "The only men I've had out recently have been on business ventures not requiring your attention."

"Hn. I see. Well I ask coz I just received proof that I got a rat in my midst and we're tryin' ta narrow our search a bit. So if ya haven't been havin' any troubles, than I'm guessin' the traitor's in my mansion, and not from yer branch a the family. Means I get ta release my kitties amongst my own men." Shiro's sneer was clear, the curling of his lip and the baring of his teeth heard in his distorted voice.

"What brings you to think this, Shirosaki?" Byakuya's voice was just as quiet and dignified as ever, but there was perhaps a hint of veiled aggression in his words. He was still a mobster, after all, despite how immaculate he always seemed.

"Earlier taday, I received some rather private photos a myself that were obviously taken wit'in the mansion and wit'out my knowledge, if ya see what I'm sayin', and a not so veiled threat along wit' 'em." Shirosaki pulled a pack of half crushed cigarettes from the pocket of his slacks. A slight scowl on his features at the state of half of them, he pulled one out and placed it between his pale lips, mentally reminding himself to pull the carton from his pocket the next time he felt the need to beat the crap out of someone. "Whoever had 'em delivered did a remarkable job at stayin' anonymous, and I got no way of backtrackin' from the person that delivered 'em."

"I see..." Byakuya paused, obviously thinking on the situation. "And they were delivered from outside your estate?"

"Yep. Printed and sealed in an unmarked envelope." The quiet snick of a zippo being flicked open announced as the Don lit up. A quiet, polite knock at his office door let him know Ishida sought entry. He nodded over to Ichigo and the Handler unlocked it and pulled it open.

"My apologies for interrupting, Sir." Ishida bowed slightly in the doorway, before stepping through and closing the portal behind himself. "I've just gone through the video surveillance, though in the interest of keeping this quiet for the time being as you've requested, I've refrained from speaking to the guards directly."

The Don said nothing, blowing out a ring of bluish smoke while he watched his secretary.

"I've found no evidence of anyone coming or going without clearance, Sir. The only people to leave the mansion in the past few days have been sent out by you personally, aside from these two," He motioned toward the Hunter and Handler standing quietly in the room, "and of course the little girl who delivered your mail."

From the other end of the phone call, Byakuya listened as his boss's assistant spoke. "Well then, it would seem your photographer has yet to leave your mansion, Sir."

Still standing in front of the large desk Shiro sat upon, Ichigo's brows rose slightly in revelation. "Which means he or she must have sent the original files to whomever had them printed while still here..."

"Indeed." Byakuya agreed, "Provided you have someone under your employ that knows a thing or two about computers, presumably you should be able to find which computer they were uploaded to and therefore who sent them out."

"Excellent. That's a wonderful start." Shirosaki's grin was back, slashing wickedly across his features as he pulled the cigarette from between his pale lips while he spoke. "Thanks for yer assistance, Byakuya."

"My pleasure, Sir." The lower don assured in a smooth voice. "I wish you luck in your hunting."

"Ahh, luck's got nuthin' ta do wit' it." Shiro smirked, taking another draw off his cigarette while he eyed the two hitmen he'd be releasing in his mansion. "Be sure that ya have Rukia call and set somethin' up."

"Of course, Sir. Do not hesitate to call again if you require assistance."

With that, the two powerful men disconnected their call and Shiro turned to Ichigo and Grimmjow with a slick grin. "Shall we get started then, boys?"

And so Shirosaki and his two favored hitmen met up with Ishida and the doctor at the in-mansion clinic, where everything they would need was brought. He sat in a wheeled office chair and spun slow circles while Szayel, being computer savvy considering he had once been among the top most well renowned physicians before he'd lost his practice license for turning his patients into experiments, estimated he would be able to track down the traitor within Shiro's family before the break of dawn the next day. Ishida, also containing reasonably extensive know how, was tasked with helping the doctor and, still paranoid about the lengths to which whoever was sneaking pictures of himself and his lover would go, Shiro designating his second team as guardians. The beast of a Hunter, Kenpachi, and his Handler, Yachiru, would be making discreet rounds and watching over Szayel and his work, doubly insuring that no one would come for the doctor, and that no one would stumble upon the secret purge going on within the family.

Still spinning his chair in slow circles, the butt of his spent cigarette resting between his thumb and pointer finger, Shirosaki pointed over at Grimmjow and Ichigo with his other hand. He'd shifted their original task over to Szayel and Ishida, but he still had plans for them. "I wanna know who else, if anyone, is runnin' round b'hind my back. Scout the mansion, covert and inconspicuous, and find me any rats. And I want all of 'em alive, got it, boys? Ya bring every single one of 'em ta me."

"Yes, Sir." Agreed the Handler. At Ichigo's side, a wide, ill-boding grin spread like a forest fire upon his Hunter's angular features. Grimmjow said nothing, but Shiro already knew the big man was all too happy to agree to the pale Don's terms.

Then the mobster paused his spinning chair, white shoes flat upon the smooth tile floor, and turned toward the doctor. Reached forward, he grabbed Szayel's wrist and tugged the effeminate male closer and down into his lap. Leaning up, pale lips close to the doctor's ear, Shiro whispered with a lecherous smirk on his features.

Szayel said nothing, his elegant brows arching ever so slightly as he listened to what his boss and dangerous lover had to say. "I would be honored." The pink haired man said, a sly, chaotic grin tugging at his pretty features. "And my payment? The usual, delivered in the usual way?"

Again Shiro's lips moved, but no one within the room aside from the doctor seated in his lap heard his words. His golden eyes held a sly, lewd glint as they panned over his gathered men.

The tiniest hint of a smirk tugged at thin lips, "And the bodies?" Szayel asked, playing along with whatever the Don was telling him.

The man's thin, almost musical voice sent an unpleasant shiver down Ichigo's spine. He had never much cared for the strange, effeminate male their boss had hired early in his taking over of the family. The doctor was damn good at what he did, repairing hitmen and boss alike whenever the need arose, but there was something shiver worthy and nightmare-ish about the man. But clearly he wouldn't be going anywhere soon, unless he managed to push the Don's temper too far. He'd already been working under Shirosaki for just under five years and the Handler had no way of knowing how long the two had been involved. It was an odd thought.

Once again Shiro spoke to his personal, on-call doctor and Szayel's laughter was maddening in the hospital room. "You have yourself a deal, Sir, I will be by after the sun comes up."

"Excellent." Shiro spun the chair in another circle before his hands released the slim hips they'd been settled against. Szayel took his cue to stand and edged back to where he'd been standing before, allowing the Don to stand from his seat. As he did, Shiro pushed the wheelie chair away, letting it glide until it sat near the exam table in the center of the room. "Off ta work then, everyone."

The boss left the room, pulling another cigarette from the half crushed carton in his pants pocket. He lit up as he turned down the hall and toward his office. He'd done pretty much all he could about the situation at hand and now he still had a stack of paperwork waiting for him to complete. He sighed, blowing smoke through his nostrils, half wishing he hadn't just assigned Ishida to help Szayel.

"Uh, Shiro!" Ichigo rounded the door frame, his partner at his side, and hurried after the Don.

"Yeah, Ichi?" Shiro looked over at the Handler as the two hitmen caught up and walked the corridor at his side. The informal use of his name hardly bothered him from these two, they were as much his friends as they were his underlings. Hell, he'd known Ichigo longer than he'd been head of the family, back when Ichigo worked under his father and his unmatched talents were being wasted.

"I think it's unwise for you to roam unguarded at this time." Ichigo almost hesitated in speaking his mind, knowing full well that Shirosaki could handle himself and would most likely object to Ichigo's obvious proposal. "This is potentially a very dangerous situation. We have very little to tell us who could be a threat at this point..."

"Ichigo," Shiro began, shaking his head and pausing midway down the hallway to clap a hand over his favored Handler's shoulder. "I appreciate yer concern, really, but I can take care of myself just fine."

"Yes, Sir, I know...but," and Ichigo's gaze panned away from his boss and drifted over toward his blue haired partner: the Hunter that had once upon a time been an escaped criminal. "Unpredictable and unprecedented things have happened before..."

Shiro and Grimmjow both snorted and the pale Don cocked a colorless brow Ichigo's way. "Grimmjow here's hardly normal, Ich, so that didn't count. B'sides, worked out just fine in the end, didn't it? Now, you two got things ta do. Be on yer way."

Ichigo was about to protest, simply wishing for his boss and friend to be safe, but Grimmjow grabbed his arm and turned them around. "You heard the boss, let's go." He rumbled in that growling tone of his.

"Grimmjow!" Ichigo practically hissed, but he didn't bother attempting to tug out of the bigger man's hold. It was a futile effort and only a command would get the Hunter to release him.

The blue haired man silenced any further words. "He knows it's dangerous in the mansion right now. Why do you think he assigned second team to Dr. Granz and Ishida? He knows what he's doing, Ichigo."

"He's not even packing!" Ichigo returned, glancing behind them toward the Don's retreating form. There was a confident swagger to the young man's stride, radiating power even with his clothing disheveled from his sparring, shirt still hanging open to reveal pale flesh. He'd ran his belt back through the loops on his slacks, but never buckled it, nor bothered to retie his shoes. But still he managed to look confident and powerful, despite how open he seemed to be leaving himself.

The two hitmen kept their voices low, unheard by anyone other then themselves and only Grimmjow's rough baritone was audible, not his actual words. "Yes he is."

Orange brows furrowed but before the Handler could comment, Grimmjow again cut him off.

"We don't see it because he doesn't want us to, Ichigo. He doesn't want anyone to see he's armed. He's making a show of his vulnerability, luring whoever's out to get him into confronting him." Grimmjow released his hold on his partner, knowing the smaller male would continue to walk at his side. They'd been partners in business and in private for too long to not be able to read one another. "The whole family knows he's angry, he made a show of that too, but only the rat's gonna know why and whoever it is is going to assume he's pissed because he's backed into a corner."

Orange brows rose as Ichigo began to see the logic in what Grimmjow told him. The Don was both using himself as a distraction and bait to bring the rat to him. His apparent vulnerability would tempt whoever had it out for him and so would keep them from paying attention to what the doctor and the Don's assistant were working on behind the scenes. Keeping the first team out of direct contact, with the two killers moving through out the mansion would also aid in that. Since Grimmjow and Ichigo were undoubtedly Shirosaki's favored pair, it would stand to reason that the rat would pay equal attention to them as well as the Don himself.

Ichigo sighed a breath and gave a slight nod, understanding and so dropping his argument and protests. "How do you get inside his head like that? I've known him twice as long as you and still cannot hope to understand his logic when he gets like this."

Grimmjow's laughter was deep like thunder in the arched corridor. "It's an animal thing, Ichi, you're much too civilized, remember?"

"Ha ha. Very funny." Ichigo's unamused sarcasm at the Hunter's familiar words -words the Handler himself had said on many occasions- drew more deep, grating laughter as the two continued deeper into the mansion.

Grimmjow's laugh earned him a good natured push from the smaller male. The big Hunter took a steadying step off to the side, head snapping around in Ichigo's direction, before he closed in on his partner with a single fluid stride. With a rumbling growl, Grimmjow blocked Ichigo in and pushed him to the side of the hallway. The smaller Handler gasped a slight sound of surprise as big hands flattened against his chest and his back hit the solid wall. Warm lips sealed over Ichigo's own in a heated, demanding kiss and Ichigo reached up to fist his hands in the tight, black shirt that was typical of his partner's wardrobe.

Big hands worked down Ichigo's body and around to cup the Handler's butt. Without effort, Grimmjow pulled his smaller lover from the floor, pressing his lips to the side of Ichigo's neck. The smaller automatically wrapped long legs around the Hunter's waist, one hand bracing against Grimmjow's shoulder while the other arm warped around the back of the bigger man's neck and slim fingers tangled in thick, blue hair.

"Not here, Grimm..." Ichigo breathed, head dropping back to thunk against the wall behind him as his partner rolled his hips forward against the front of Ichigo's slacks.

Grimmjow's growl was a wordless protest, rumbling in his chest and vibrating in the nonexistent space between them where he pressed his face against Ichigo's neck. His hold only tightened as he leaned his weight forward, firmly pinning Ichigo in place.

"I know we got interrupted earlier...but we have things to do..."

Again his protests were met with a snarl that would have doused anyone else in cold fear, but Ichigo was used to it coming from this man. They'd been partners for years now: they spent nearly every minute of their days and nights together.

"Grimmjow." Ichigo's voice was low, commanding despite the underlying huskiness that made it thick and showed his want.

The big Hunter rumbled another, unpleased growl but stepped back and lowered the smaller male to stand on the ground again. Ichigo grabbed his hand and turned them in the direction that would lead them to their personal, in-mansion suite. It didn't take much effort to tug Grimmjow in that direction and they hurried off, conscious of the mission they needed to complete as soon as possible.

"This better be quick," Ichigo warned as he was pushed against their room door only minutes later. He fumbled behind his back for the lock as a big hand squeezed the front of his pants not quite harshly, but none too gently either. He grunted out a small sound at Grimmjow's impatience, finally opening the door and stumbling backward into their private rooms.

Grimmjow threw the door shut behind himself as he followed his smaller lover in, still attached to Ichigo's front. His hand left the Handler's growing erection in favor of tugging the front of Ichigo's button up shirt open. Ichigo rushed to strip himself of his tailored suit jacket and tie, a little impressed that Grimmjow was actually working the buttons through their eyelets rather than just ripping the shirt open.

The darkly colored tie was dropped to the floor, still half knotted. The jacket followed shortly after as Grimmjow continued to back Ichigo further into their living space. The second the shirt was fully opened, Grimmjow's hands went to the front of Ichigo's pants, tugging the fitted slacks open and down to his knees before Ichigo could react.

Tripped up on the clothing in his way, the Handler stumbled backward, falling against the couch in their seating area. Grimmjow's large form descended atop him as the Hunter's hands yanked upon the last of the clothing in his way. Ichigo's boxers joined his pants as hey were pushed down to his ankles.

The smaller, orange haired man was already hard and leaking, turned on by his partner's aggressive behavior and his cock saluted proudly as Grimmjow began hurriedly tugging his own pants open. The buckle to his belt clanked as it was pulled loose but not pulled from the loops of his dark jeans. The big man only pulled his pants down far enough to free his thick, throbbing erection.

Ichigo groaned at the sight and twisted to reach around behind himself, arching his back as he worked his arm between his body and the couch. Not sure he trusted Grimmjow to go through the motions properly in his aggressive and demanding state, Ichigo probed at his own entrance with a single finger. His teeth tugged at his bottom lip and it was only after the tip of his pointer finger breached his rectum -a small, gasping intake escaping him- that he realized that sharp, blue eyes watched his every move with the hunger of a hunting cat.

"Ha-Grimm...g-get the..." Ichigo winced, carefully pushing his finger deeper. He didn't need to elaborate further on his request and Grimmjow nearly tripped over himself springing from the couch and darting to their bedroom to retrieve the requested lube.

He was back in a split second, cap already twisted off the bottle and cool substance dripping onto long fingers. Ichigo let out a moaning gasp as one of Grimmjow's digits eased along his own, stretching him as well as adding a bit of relieving, slippery lubrication. His breath hitched as Grimmjow pushed their fingers deeper, the bigger man's other hand settling on Ichigo's toned belly, coasting upward to feel quivering, taut muscle.

Grimmjow slowly trailed his exploring hand back down his partner's abdomen, until his palm found the base of Ichigo's cock. Wrapping long fingers around the smaller's erection, Grimmjow pushed a second finger in beside his first and Ichigo's, further stretching his lover. To dull the discomfort of his hasty preparing, Grimmjow worked his hand up along Ichigo's cock, his motions slow and light and verging on maddening.

Ichigo arched his back, head dropping back as he tried to voice that sentiment, but all that came out was a wordless, airy sound. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, orange brows furrowing as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Ssstop, Grimmjow...I'm ready."

Blue brows furrowed slightly, but Grimmjow didn't remove his fingers as he eyed his partner, not wanting to hurt the smaller man too badly. Ichigo took the initiative for him, pulling his own finger free and grabbing Grimmjow's wrist. He tugged Grimmjow's fingers from his entrance as he kicked his pants and boxers off and wound his legs around Grimmjow's waist. He pulled the bigger male against him and Grimmjow growled a low, hungry sound as his thick member brushed warm, slicked flesh.

Pushing his pants down a bit further to keep them out of his way, Grimmjow quickly snagged Ichigo's hips and lined himself up. The Handler keened a low, drawn out sound as Grimmjow thrust forward. He was hardly given a moment to adjust before the big Hunter was pulling back only to pound forward again.

Grimmjow groaned and growled and grunted as he thrust into his smaller partner. Blunt nails clawed for purchase at his arms and shoulders as Ichigo panted and moaned below him.

An amusing thought crossed Ichigo's mind as he keened a curse, his Hunter's heavy cock filling him in the best of ways. "J-just imagine I-Ishida walking in again..."

The blue haired male snorted a laugh, smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at his partner. "I'd pay money to see his face." He grunted out, punctuating the thought with a particularly well aimed thrust.

Ichigo nearly screamed as the bigger male's cock drilled against his prostate, lighting fiery pleasure up and down his spine. Coherent thought flew out the window as he clutched at Grimmjow's arms before one of his hands traveled between his legs. The Handler's fingers found his cock, bobbing in time with Grimmjow's movements, and Ichigo began stroking himself as heat pooled in his belly.

The couch creaked quietly in protest to their movements, the feet of it digging against the plush carpet below. The metal of the Hunter's belt buckle clanked in a chorus to match their sounds of pleasure and the sound of flesh meeting against the flesh.

"Oh god...Grimmjow..." Ichigo's free hand worked it's way up, over Grimmjow's shoulder, so that his fingers could tangle in uniquely blue hair. The bigger man grunted a surprise sound as Ichigo yanked, pulling Grimmjow's head down so that their lips met in a bruising, sloppy kiss. Another jab at his prostate, and Ichigo was moaning into the kiss as his hips jerked, the white strands of his release spurting to coat his trembling hand and splash against the smooth, lightly tanned flesh of his belly.

Grimmjow continued thrusting, panting and letting out rumbling moans of his own as he drew near his own release. Ichigo's breath was hot and arousing on his throat as the smaller male pulled out of their kiss, moving to press his lips against the soft skin of the Hunter's neck. Ichigo kissed and nipped, working downward while Grimmjow's thrusts grew erratic and uneven. His lips found the prominent scar that rest just below the big Hunter's collar bone, feeling raised but smooth tissue. As his tongue slicked over the scar, Grimmjow's voice rose in a growling, baritone cry. His hips jolted flush with Ichigo's bottom as his orgasm crested through his body and he emptied his seed within his lover.

The bigger man let his weight sink forward, pinning Ichigo to the couch under him. They laid like that for a few minutes, catching their breath as the fog of desire and pleasure began lifting. A few moments later, they began pulling themselves back up. Grimmjow hiked his pants back up to settle against his cut hips, tucking his softening member away. Ichigo leaned over the arm of the couch, butt in the air and knowing his partner's attention would be all over it, and snagged his discarded slacks. Pulling them from the floor, he quickly pulled them back on, frowning at the few wrinkles in the pressed fabric. Tugging his dress shirt back into proper place, he quickly re-buttoned it and snagged his tie and jacket as he and Grimmjow fled their suite.

The door closed behind them, automatically locking from the hallway side. Turning down the corridor to head in the direction they'd originally been going, Grimmjow aided Ichigo in shrugging into his fitted jacket once more while the Handler worked the knot from his tie so that he could put it back on as well.

They hadn't taken more than twenty minutes to make the rushed journey to their rooms, do their business, and redress, but they found their boss smirking when they rounded a bend in the hall. The pale Don paused mid-step, took one look at them, and cackled a manic sound.

"You boys're lucky I like ya." He announced, patting Ichigo on the shoulder as the Handler blushed crimson. "How many times've I caught ya doin' the dirty on the job?"

Grimmjow started to speak, and Ichigo knew it would be a number that was both far too high for his liking and probably far too accurate as well. So the Handler elbowed the big man and gave their boss a slight but respectful bow. "Our apologies, Sir..."

"Tch." Shiro waved it off, smirk still on his face, but it held a wicked quality. "No ya ain't and that's just fine, so long as ya eradicate the vermin from my home."

"You needn't worry, Sir." Ichigo glanced over at his partner, finding that hard, business gleam in the big man's blue eyes. "Consider it already done."

"Good. R'memeber, keep 'em alive." Shiro stepped between the two and continued on his way as he spoke. "No killin' anyone yet, Grimmjow."

"Take all the fun away, boss." Grimmjow grumbled through his grin, but he'd never go against the pale young man. Shirosaki was friendly enough, at least when his temper wasn't flaring, but he was still a mobster, and a don at that, and it was suicide to go against his word.

The powerful mob boss laughed, not looking back. Kenpachi would be showing Szayel to his private chambers later, as the sun began to climb into the sky and that was the direction he was headed, ready to sit down and relax. The doctor already knew the way, of course, but the second team Hunter's presence was less of an escort and more of a guard.

"Ya know," Grimmjow began as they slipped through the doors to the training room. "this would be easier and quicker if we just spread a rumor that the boss was lookin' for the traitor and wait to see who panics."

Ichigo grunted a small sound, gaze panning across the extensive room and over the amassed people. It seemed as good a place to start as any, and no one would think anything of the first team being in the training room. They'd all think Grimmjow and Ichigo were going about their daily routine. "There's a certain logic in that..." He admitted, "but that's not how Shirosaki wants to do things."

And what Shirosaki wanted, he got. So the two went about their business, making rounds through out the mansion. They sparred and listened in on others' conversations, digging up as much about the names on the long list Ishida had given them. They knew Szayel and the secretary would give them the computer from which the photos had been sent out, but that would lead them to only one person and Shiro must have thought there were more, if he was willing to have Grimmjow and Ichigo personally hunt them out.

A few hours into their hunt, they left the mansion. After speaking with Don Shirosaki, it was decided that the first team would head out into the city's underworld and see what they could glean. Their driver pulled from the mansion's long driveway and took a left, heading into the belly of the city. As was usual procedure, the driver parked the vehicle and Grimmjow climbed from the car first. Despite that they didn't expect trouble, the big Hunter took his time in getting a feel for the area before he stepped away from the door and allowed his partner to exit the car. Leaving instructions for their silent driver, they left to begin their digging.

People talked when they were given the right motivation. Shirosaki's famed pair made for quite the motivation. Ichigo sought out a few groups in specific, knowing where to find who he searched for. Once found, Grimmjow's size and intimidation got them in the talkative mood.

It didn't take them long to begin hearing troubling rumors.

Back at the mansion, Szayel hovered over his computer, Ishida at his side. The two picked their way through the Don's servers, skimming through emails and messages that had been sent and received by people that worked under Shirosaki. Neither of the two men were experts in the field of computer hacking or tracking, but both were intelligent and were well versed in a multitude of subjects. They figured out the basics quick enough.

They hadn't found much yet, but Szayel had estimated it would take more than just that first night for them to dig through all the junk and find what they were looking for. The pink haired doctor sighed, propping his elbow on the desk as he stared at the computer screen in front of him. He didn't really need to actually watch it, it was set to sound an alert should it find anything matching the criteria he'd labeled for it to find. In danger of falling asleep at the rate things were going, he stood from the office chair he'd seated himself in.

Adjusting his glasses, he chewed at his lower lip for half a second before checking his watch and turning toward the door that led from the room. Kenpachi looked back at him, having hardly moved since Shirosaki had posted the giant Hunter and his Handler as guardians. Yachiru seemed to show up from no where and peeked over her partner's shoulder. Used to the little bubblegum haired girl showing up, Kenpachi didn't even seem to notice she was there.

"Ready to call it a night, doctor?" She asked cheerfully, smiling like the late hour -or perhaps early was a better word- didn't register on her.

Dr. Granz nodded, pulling his glasses from their perch to pinch the bridge of his nose in a most dignified manner. "I am. You're to accompany me to Don Shirosaki's chambers, yes?"

"Yep we are!" Yachiru hopped down from her perch to land in the space between the doctor and her Hunter. Her size didn't fool anyone, nor did her cheery demeanor, not anyone from Shiro's branch at any rate. She was a skilled and knowledgeable killer and not so young as she looked. "It's probably a good thing you're ready to head over there. The boss isn't very patient..."

Behind her, Kenpachi grunted something that might have passed for an amused sound. Yachiru looked back at him, then back at Szayel and emphatically nodded her agreement with wide eyes. The pink haired man had no idea what that meant.

Following the second team, Dr. Granz gave Ishida instructions to leave the computers running through out the approaching day, even after the secretary called it quits to get some sleep. If the program found anything suspicious, it would flag it and Szayel and Ishida would be able to look at it when they came back after they'd rested.

Szayel followed behind Kenpachi, Yachiru at his side, as they made their way through the halls. The corridors were mostly deserted at this hour, with the sun on it's way up and beginning to stain the horizon with brilliant oranges and yellows. The only people aside from the doctor and his escorts were the few guards making their rounds, patrolling the interior of the mansion. More guards stood outside and walked the perimeter during the day than did at night when the mansion's most dangerous of residents were awake and lurking.

But as things were at that time, all was mostly silent in the mansion's interior, peaceful even. With all of it's beautiful architecture; arching ceilings, elegant trim and chandeliers, expensive tile and tastefully sultry coloring, no one would have known the elaborate mansion held such dark and brutal secrets. There was a perfect irony there, that something so beautiful was home to the city's most dangerous and dastardly of criminals.

Kenpachi and Yachiru moved to flank either side of the door that led into Shiro's private rooms. It looked like any other door in the mansion, nothing special to mark it apart from any other room, but inside was far from average. The don's chambers were a small house of their own, his very own home within his mansion.

Szayel rapped his knuckles lightly against the sturdy wood of the door and stepped back to await. It didn't take long and Shirosaki pulled the door open from within, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants, his long hair left loose and combed smooth, free of tangles. The Don stepped aside to allow the doctor entry, thanked his second team, and closed the door again. Tugging the comfy pants up a bit higher on his trim hips, he walked past his guest and dropped down to sit upon the plush, dark colored couch that made a sort of fourth wall to his sitting room, blocking the main room from the door.

He looked over the back and motioned for Szayel to join him, to which the pink haired male slipped his shoes off and walked around the couch to do as he was told. It wasn't often they simply sat while in the Don's private suite and so the taller man was a bit surprised when Shirosaki picked up a remote and a glass of wine from the low sitting, glass coffee table that sat only a foot and a half in front of the couch. He handed Szayel one as well, and hit play on the movie he was watching.

Not so surprisingly, an action flick with lots of guns began playing, picking up where it had been paused. What did catch Dr. Granz off guard was that the setting for the movie was an old western theme, with cowboys and horses and old revolvers.

"Good timin'." Shirosaki announced, propping his bare feet up on the coffee table. He took a sip of his wine, golden eyes aimed at the large, wall mounted flat screen that sat between two large, curtain covered picture windows. "This is the best part a the whole damn movie."

Szayel daintily took a seat beside the Don and trained his gaze on the movie just in time for a man to begin screaming bloody murder. Around the hapless actor, four horses were tied to the man, ropes leading from his limbs to the western style saddles. Screams erupted through the room, amplified by the expensive surround sound Shiro had installed in his personal chambers.

At the doctor's side, Shirosaki's head tilted slightly, his colorless hair swaying to one side. "Ya think a person'd really bleed an' rip apart like that?" He asked as one of the cowboy's arms was torn free and the horse took off riderless down the dusty street. Blood pooled below the man as the other three horses continued to pull in opposing directions.

"Hmm, I honestly couldn't say, Sir..." Szayel answered, elegant brows raised as his yellow hued eyes stayed adamantly on the screen. He certainly wasn't new to blood and gore and guts, but this was different...crude. It suited the Don well. "I don't know much about horses, but they're surely strong enough to pull someone apart..and torn muscle and flesh bleeds more freely than a clean cut, so I suppose it would be possible."

Shiro grunted a small sound to show he'd heard the doctor, too busy enjoying the gore to really put together much of a response. He sipped his wine, throwing his free arm over the back of the couch as he relaxed after a long and stressful day. Well, an angering one, at any rate.

A half hour later, the movie nearly over, the Don arched a pale brow as an elegant hand settled along his upper thigh. The sweatpants he wore didn't do much to dull the crawling feel of thin fingers drawing idle, arousing patterns. A smirk creased his white lips, pushing away some of the fatigue from his features and bringing about that lively, wild look that normally shone in his strange eyes.

Nearly on the opposite side of the city Don Shirosaki controlled, the powerful young man's favored team hurried from the mostly abandoned wear house they'd met with a particularly well informed woman. She'd been more than happy to tell the infamous pair all they'd wanted to know, smart enough to know better than to tangle with the two and yank them around.

Grimmjow snarled a vicious curse, his blue eyes blazing as he and Ichigo tore from the building and down the street. They met their driver in the designated location and the man hurried from the driver's seat, opening the door for them to enter as he saw them headed in his direction with haste. The moment Ichigo slid into the plush vehicle, he pulled his phone from his pocket to dial the mansion's number.

The big Hunter slid in across from him and the door was pushed shut. The driver hurried to his place behind the wheel and quickly pulled them from the curb. He didn't need to ask what their destination was, it was clear by the famed pair's actions that they needed to speak with their boss.

Ichigo cursed a frustrated handful of rushed words and pulled his phone away from his ear when Ishida's automated voice told him in the most professional and refined way to either leave a message or call back when it wasn't as inconvenient for Mr. Ogichi. The message usually amused the Handler, seeing as next to no one referred to Shirosaki by his official sir name, but at the moment, it only annoyed him.

He punched in the number to the Don's personal cell phone, a number that only a small group of people had. Sitting back against the plush leather of the car, he held the phone to his ear, staring across the cab at his partner. Neither of the hitmen were pleased to hear the rumors swirling around in the belly of the city.

"Dammit, Shiro..." Ichigo mumbled, disconnecting the call and shoving the phone back into his jacket pocket. He was little perturbed that the Don's personal phone had rang long enough to go to the generic message about the caller being unavailable. Shirosaki always had his phone on him. Granted, it was getting rather late in the morning, the sun already cresting the tops of the tall buildings and bathing the streets in the warm light of day. It was possible, likely even, that the Don had retired for the day.

While the situation was potentially dangerous, especially if the rat in Shirosaki's mansion worked for those rumored to be stalking the streets, it would only be a few minutes until they reached the mansion and could find the Don and warn him in person.

True to the Handler's thoughts, their silent driver sped them through the city and pulled into the mansion's driveway. He threw the car into park and hurried around, pulling the door open for his superiors as the two deadly men climbed from the car and practically ran up the wide staircase to the mansion's front doors.

The doors were pulled open by the two burly doormen that stood watch outside the mansion at nearly all hours. Everyone knew Shirosaki's first team and so knew it was suicide to attempt to make the two wait through the proper procedures normally used for those entering the Don's home, even for those that were part of his family. They were accorded nearly as much respect as the Don himself.

Ichigo and Grimmjow hardly spared the two doormen a second look as they blew past and into the mansion. They didn't bother checking the boss's office, since his office phone hadn't been picked up by Ishida. Instead, they simply took off at a near sprint down the main corridor, quickly making their way toward Shirosaki's private suite.

Not twenty minutes after Shirosaki and his guest had given up on the movie, a loud, insistent knock upon the entry to his private living quarters made the pale don jolt slightly. The contents of his wine glass sloshed but didn't spill and the man kneeling between his legs jumped, a small sound of discomfort announcing as the head of Shiro's cock found the back of the doctor's throat. Szayel paused in what he was doing, bright, honey colored eyes hooded as they peered up at the shorter male. Shiro's ashen brows furrowed slightly as tilted his head slightly, his inverted eyes dark and swirling like the wine in his glass as he turned to glance over his shoulder toward the door.

Before he could inquire about who was interrupting him at such an hour, a familiar voice called through the closed portal. "First team, Sir, and we've got a bit of important information for you."

"Door's open, boys." Shirosaki's voice rose high enough to be heard through the closed door. The knob twisted before the door began to swing open. Szayel began hurriedly pulled away from the Don's pale member, but the hand tangled in pink locks tightened and Shiro arched a brow down at the doctor as he put the slightest pressure on the back of Szayel's head, pushing him back toward his saluting cock.

Elegant brows arched slightly but those yellow eyes darkened as they looked up at the Don. Warm lips wrapped back around the head of Shiro's member, wet tongue teasing at the slit, before Szayel lowered again.

Shiro hissed a pleasured sound, his hold upon his crystal glass tightening. At that moment, Ichigo and Grimmjow both paused just inside the entryway as the Hunter pushed the door closed behind them. From where they stood, only the back of their boss's head and bare shoulders were visible as he faced away from them, his left arm held out so that his wrist settled against the arm of the couch as he held his glass of red wine, but it was hard to miss the thick tone of pleasure in the Don's voice.

"Wine, boys?" Shiro asked, not turning to look back at them. The lean muscle of his right shoulder and arm tightened and Grimmjow and Ichigo were gifted with a soft but lewd and choked moan that could have only come from the resident doctor.

"Uh, no thanks, Sir." Ichigo answered for them, his features igniting a light crimson. At his side, Grimmjow wore a shark grin and sent a suggestive look in his partner's direction. Ichigo scowled back, but the expression didn't hold as a big hand clasped the back of his neck and Grimmjow leaned in to run his tongue over the Handler's ear. He shivered and swatted at the bigger man as the Don's watery voice spoke up again.

"Good choice, don't really much feel like gettin' up ta fetch it, ya know?" Shirosaki chuckled and his lilting voice floated eerily through the finely furnished room, the tone a bit deeper than usual. A small, moaning breath escaped him before he continued, splitting his attention between his hitmen and the man currently blowing him. "If ya don't want a show, best stay back there, boys. Now then, what d'ya have for me?"

Grimmjow's grin only grew as he started to take a step forward. Ichigo snagged his arm and pulled him back, hissing out a quiet "Grimmjow!" before straightening and clearing his throat to keep his voice neutral as he addressed the Don. "We can...come back, if you'd like, Sir..."

"Nah, must a been important enough if ya were willin' ta run the risk a wakin' me up." Shiro told the orange haired male, his gaze traveling toward the thick curtains of one of the large picture windows located to either side of his television in front of where the couch sat, overlooking the city as the sun rose. The dark curtains mostly hid his sitting room from the early morning sun trying to filter in, but bright light seeped around the lush fabric, casting harsh shadows and streaks of light across the couch and it's occupants.

"Uh, yes, Sir." Ichigo glanced at Grimmjow before his expression went serious again. The news his partner and himself had to deliver was important, possibly a life and death situation. "Word on the street is that someone from Aizen's old family is trying to carve out a name for himself and bring the family back to the top."

Shirosaki stiffened and a small, pained sound crept from his lover's throat as pale fingers tightened harshly in his pink hair.

"And he's starting with you, Sir." Ichigo finished.

The Don snarled, yanking Szayel's head away from his cock as he half threw the doctor to the floor. The slim male wisely stayed where he was, seated on his knees as he wiped the back one dainty hand across his lips. His eyes glanced from Shirosaki to Grimmjow and Ichigo and back again. The Don tucked himself away within his dark sweatpants as he stood and turned turned toward his first team, a vicious sneer curling his lip.

"An' you're sayin' _that's_ who's runnin' round my mansion?" He asked, his lilting voice deadly calm.

"Yes, Sir, we believe so."

Shirosaki took a deep, even breath and bent to snag his lighter and an unopened carton of cigarettes from the coffee table. With jerky motions, he tore the seal and quickly opened the pack, pulling a cigarette free. "Szazy," He said as he pushed one between his lips and flicked his zippo to life, "ya better get yer ass back ta that computer and find me a rat."

The doctor pulled himself to his feet, straightening his clothing, as the Don exhaled a breath of toxic smoke. Adamantly keeping his gaze turned away from the first team, he brushed past the Hunter and Handler and quickly tugged his shoes back on. As he pulled the door open to leave, Shirosaki's voice halted him.

"Wait." He didn't need volume to get everyone's attention, but his voice wasn't exactly quite nonetheless as he motioned toward his favored Hunter and Handler. He didn't look up as he did so. "Second team's off duty for the night, take these two wit' ya instead."

"That won't be necessary, Sir, they can continue their du-"

"I said-!" Shirosaki started in an aggressive snarl, halting himself as he tilted his head slightly and grit his teeth. His lips curled and his nostrils flared as he took another pull from his cigarette. Then he started over, his voice much more calm but equally commanding and threatening. "Don't..._ever_...argue wit' me, Szazy. We been over this. Do what I tell ya. Take Ichigo and Grimmjow wit' ya, they can continue their assignment when I join ya."

The three left the suite, leaving the Don behind and closing the door behind themselves. Grimmjow arched a blue brow over at the doctor, his expression set in hard lines. Ichigo's features were better masked, but his brown eyes glittered with a hard gleam as he focused on where they were going.

"It would be wise not to overstep your bounds with Shiro." Ichigo finally spoke up as they made it to the half way point in the extensive hallways. "It's clear he favors you, else he would not give you multiple warnings. Do not make him regret that."

At Ichigo's side, the Handler's large partner bared teeth over at the pink haired man in their midst. "You're not the only person he takes to his bed, and he can find another doctor."

"I do not respond well to threats, gentlemen." The doctor responded, his voice haughty as his intelligent eyes sparkled with malevolence behind the lenses of his glasses.

"We haven't started threatening yet." Grimmjow growled out, his tone a low warning. "You'll know when we do..." Ichigo's fingertips just barely brushed the golden skin of his wrist, the light touch enough to keep him at the Handler's side.

"Consider it advice, Dr. Granz." Ichigo's voice remained professional, masked. "Shiro is doing quite a lot to insure your safety, despite that it's himself that's been threatened. Don't take that for granted."

The doctor said nothing and the three were silent the rest of the way through the halls. Szayel went to work the moment he unlocked his office, waking up the computer he was using and quickly scanning through the list of things it had determined were trash. Only one file out of all those it had scanned through so far had been flagged, but upon manipulating it so that he could peek at the file, he and the two hitmen were gifted with photos they could have lived without seeing. They certainly had nothing to do with Shiro or his operation.

The pink haired man sighed a delicate sound and pulled his glasses from their perch, cleaning them with precise motions against his clean, sterile white shirt. "I cannot make this process go any faster..." He admitted. It was something the Don needed to hear, really, but Shirosaki wasn't there and his hitmen were, so that would have to do. "We just have to wait for the program to do it's job."

"Boss isn't going to like that." Grimmjow grunted out, crossing thick arms over his muscled chest, tan skin a stark contrast against the bold black of his tight shirt.

Ichigo nodded his agreement, but understood perfectly well what the doctor was saying: they would need to be patient and remain calm, easier said then done when talking about their dangerous employer. Not five minutes later, said man made his appearance.

Shirosaki let himself into the in-mansion doctor's office they were using to let Szayel work his magic, in this case with a computer rather than a scalpel. Dressed in his usual, pristine white suit and dark button up once more, he worked his long hair into a ponytail at the nape of his neck as he strode into the room. The cigarette, mostly burned and nearing the filter, bobbed between his pale lips as he spoke. "What d'ya got for me, Szazy?"

"About that." Szayel started, pushing his glasses back into place and folding his arms elegantly over his thin chest. "You must understand, there's very little I c-"

And as he spoke, the computer behind him beeped a small, electronic sound as the alert was triggered, the scan picking up something that matched the search criteria. The doctor let a slight frown tug at his fair features as he cut himself off mid-word and turned. His yellow eyes quickly scanned the parameters of the file that had triggered the scan, elegant brows furrowing toward the center just slightly as he reached down to dragged the mouse curser over the file. He glanced over his shoulder, back at the Don, before pulling the file up and opening it.

The document viewing program quickly opened, displaying quite revealing photos of himself and the Don. Several dozen photos popped up, more than just the handful the Don had received. Many showed the powerful albino and his pink haired lover, but still others were less intimate and more mundane. They showed that Shiro had been being watched longer than he could have guessed. Some were taken in the training room, some in the halls. Some were taken late into the night, when he was most active, busy with his underworld kingdom, still others were taken in the wee hours of the morning, just before he retired for the day to rest. They mapped out his daily routine; when he ate, when he slept, what hours he spent in his office or in the ring with his sparring partners. They showed who he interacted with most often, showed those he kept closest to him.

All four of the men standing in what was usually used as an operating room were silent, motionless. No one dared utter a word -they hardly even breathed- as Szayel scrolled through the photos. Behind the two hitmen and the doctor, still just inside the doorway, Shirosaki stood as if frozen, his inverted eyes a little wide as he realized just how close the enemy apparently was. His hand hovered half way between his side and his mouth, where he'd been about to pull the nearly spent cigarette away. But it wasn't fear that made him freeze, oh no. Anger cursed through his veins. Outrage seized his very person and nothing but retribution and retaliation roiled through his mind. Someone would pay. Dearly.

In a voice that was much too calm, far too smooth and collected, a voice that showed cold death, the powerful Don inquired, "How long till ya can tell me which room tha's from?"

Szayel didn't answer. As if the Don's voice had broken the spell of immobility that had befallen the figures under Shirosaki's employ, he slid into the desk chair that sat before the computer. Long, thin fingers flashed over the keys as Szayel worked, sharp eyes panning over the various numbers and letters that showed up on the screen. He mumbled to himself, under his breath, as he worked out an answer to the Don's question.

Flanking him, Grimmjow and Ichigo stood relaxed and ready in a way that promised hurt. Shiro let loose a small, lilting snarl and pulled his keys from his pocket. He pulled a silver, intricately designed key off the ring and handed it over to Ichigo. "Bring 'im ta me when Szazy tells ya where ta find 'im, alive but ready ta talk. And make sure ya bring me anyone else in the mansion he's workin' wit'."

"Yes, Sir." Ichigo accepted the master key that would allow him to get through nearly every door in the mansion.

The Don turned to leave, silent. Nothing but the quiet tap of his expensive, white dress shoes marked his passage through the halls as he pulled yet another cigarette out and lit up.

Only minutes after the Don took his leave, thinking of nothing but murder, Szayel spoke. "South wing...rooooom..." His eyes scanned through code displayed on the screen. "Ah, simple. The room at the far end of the hall, right side."

The two infamous men took their leave, Grimmjow turning to look over his shoulder as he exited the hospital room. "Lock the door behind us. Do not leave. Boss wont be happy if you get caught up in this."

A smirk tugged across thin lips as Szayel laughed a small but manic sound. He agreed to what the Hunter instructed, despite how very intrigued he was to see the two killers at work within the mansion's very walls. It was a unique opportunity, but it was a situation that had the potential to get very messy. When faced with those two, the culprit would surely fight, to the death if necessary, knowing that death was what faced him already.

Grimmjow and Ichigo turned down the hallway, walking at a brisk but otherwise calm pace until they reached the center of the mansion, where the majority of the corridors met. They turned down the south facing wing and, without communicating to one another, both took off in a quick, quiet jog.

It only took them a handful of seconds to reach the very end of the extensive hallway. They didn't bother knocking or calling through the door. They didn't announce their presence, nor did they say a word to each other. Ichigo moved in front and carefully, silently slipped the key he'd been handed into the deadbolt. As quietly as was possible, he turned it and listened for the quiet click of the lock.

The moment the soft sound met their ears, Grimmjow pushed his Handler aside and twisted the knob to enter the room first. Stealth was a thing he was used to and silence made his large size even more dangerous. He pushed the door open and slipped into the darkened room. As was typical for night dwelling beings, dark curtains were pulled over the windows of the room, blocking out most of the rising sun and casting the space in shadows.

They did little to hinder the big Hunter as he peered cautiously around the main, sitting room that the entrance opened up into. Finding nothing of threat, he stepped aside and let his Handler in. They closed the door behind themselves and Ichigo drew his gun, quickly twisting a silencer in place, though it was only a last minute precaution should they find that they were unable to retrieve the man alive for some unforeseen reason. It was an unlikely scenario.

Grimmjow pulled his silver handled butterfly knife from his back pocket, twirling it open as his eyes zeroed in on the slightly brighter splash of light seeping in from crack of one of the bedroom doors. Ichigo took notice of it the moment his partner's attention landed upon it and the two crept over toward the closed portal in silence befitting killers of their level.

Voices came from the other side of the door, at least two. Grimmjow's lip curled and Ichigo's normally warm gaze went cold.

'We are never going to get outta here alive.' One hissed, voice low but insistent, fearful. He was cut off by another.

'Yes we are. We're fine. Shirosaki will comply, he'll have to, and then the boss will pull us out after he kills him and takes over.'

'Do you know nothing about Shirosaki?' The owner of the first voice was on the verge of anger, rage even, all driven by his healthy dose of fear. 'I can't believe you agreed that we would stay longer! We should have left when we had the chance.'

Brown eyes locked with cold blue just before Grimmjow's hand settled on the door and eased it open. It creaked on it's hinges, sounding eerie and haunting in the deep shadows of the rooms. Both men from within froze, looked up. The sight that awaited them was far worse than they could have imagined.

Grimmjow stalked into the room, his angular features twisted with aggression while his partner hung back in the doorway. "Make this easy, you two, and the Don might not rip you limb from limb before he kills you."

It was that moment the two traitors jolted into panic-stricken action. Thinking themselves locked safely behind a door, in their own rooms while most of the mansion's occupants slept on, they were unarmed. They scrambled for their guns, but there were few people with faster reactions then the first team Hunter.

Grimmjow darted past one, leaving his embedded in the man's thigh, and all but tackled the other. The boss had said alive, but he'd said nothing about them being healthy, just ready to talk. The man that had been stabbed screamed in agony as he clutched at his bleeding leg. Red quickly stained his clothing, saturating his pants and his hands. The second traitor thudded to the ground, the big Hunter snarling and baring teeth in his face like a rabid dog. He hit the ground hard enough to stun him before a big hand fisted in his hair and the back of his head smacked into the hardwood floor again, leaving black spots to cloud his fuzzy vision.

With the sudden commotion, a third person had been alerted and just as Grimmjow released his hold on the rat he'd tackled, hurried footsteps met his ears. His growl was very nearly inhuman as his head snapped around, bright blue eyes dancing with fire as they locked on the doorway just behind Ichigo.

The skilled Handler saw his partner's movements and, used to working with each other and so knowing what the other's every action meant, Ichigo spun and leveled his gun just as their third catch of the morning slid on the hardwood flooring. He'd been trying to make it to the door, liking his odds of running through the halls in a mansion full of murders more than those of staying in the same room with the top team. But as Ichigo's impeccable aim found him, the man froze, trembling with his fright and knowing how dead he already was. He muttered over and over, a rush of terrified, cursing words and Ichigo arched a brow, his gaze coasting over to Grimmjow for a moment.

The big Hunter nodded, a sharpness to his grin. The two knew just who would talk first already. Without needing to ask if the top Hunter could handle the two they'd already downed, Ichigo calmly exited the room, his gun still trained on the third traitor. Nearing the man, Ichigo pressed the barrel of his silencer against the man's hip. His eyes were hard, unforgiving, his handsome features showing just how easy all this was for him. "Shirosaki wants a word with you. Behave yourself and you'll make it to your appointment unharmed."

The man's eyes widened, his hands shaking where he held them out to the side. He nodded, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat.

"Excellent." Ichigo motioned for the man to enter the room his partners were being watched and said vermin did as he was told. Grimmjow already had the first two on their feet again, though one still bled freely, silver knife still jutting from his leg and the other was off balance and seeing spots. Both were aware enough to realize the trouble they were in, however, but unarmed as they were, there weren't many options open to them.

"Dammit, Grimm." Ichigo sighed, casually walking over to the stabbed victim. He yanked the blade free, eliciting another pained scream as the man wrapped his shaking hands as tightly around the wound as possible, knuckles and face going white. The handler shook his head and carefully pulled a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket, wiping the silver blade down before gingerly closing it and handing it over to the Hunter. He was careful not to pay too much attention to the blood stained cloth in his hands as he pushed it against the rat's leg. "Don Shirosaki told us to leave them alive and ready to talk..."

Grimmjow grunted, his blue eyes flashing in the shadowed room. "I only just barely nicked the femoral artery, he'll make it to the Don's before he bleeds out."

"Not if he keeps panicking like that." Ichigo mumbled. At the rate the man was breathing, he'd pass out and Grimmjow would slit his throat so they didn't have to carry him down the hallway and to the boss.

The Handler nudged the man with his gun and he and Grimmjow began escorting them from the suite. The three traitors were skittish, jerky. They were panicked and unpredictable because of it, but the two hitmen were veterans at this game. They knew what to look for and how to react, they knew how to stay calm.

Halfway down the hall, one of the three men, the one Grimmjow had nearly knocked unconscious, spun on them. He shoved one of his partners toward the Handler and the gun in Ichigo's hands, then threw himself at Grimmjow, reaching for the big man's dangerous knife where it was held harmless and closed in the Hunter's hand.

Ichigo tripped up the man stumbling into him, dropping him to the floor and out of the Handler's way without really hurting him. At the same time, Grimmjow's fist tightened around the closed knife and cracked into the man's face with an audible crunch. The traitor reeled back, hands going to his face. Taking another staggering step backward, he pulled his hands away again, sneering through the fresh, bubbling blood smeared across the lower half of his face. With one hand, he reached around behind himself.

He didn't even get the chance to pull the gun free of his waistband before the Handler's silenced handgun went off. Once, twice, right into the man's chest. Blood sprayed in a fine mist as the bullets pierced flesh. He gasped a choked, shocked sound and looked down at himself in disbelief before crumpling to the ground.

Grimmjow watched him fall, then looked over at his smaller partner. Blue brows furrowed slightly but it wasn't an angered or confused expression and instead concern showed in his cyan eyes.

Ichigo let a small smile twitch onto his lips. "I don't take chances anymore...not when they're looking at you." He told his partner, voice nearly a whisper. Despite that the Aizen incident had been a couple years ago now, the memories were still far too fresh and not all the scars had healed and faded completely.

He bent forward to grasp the fallen man's arm and yank him back to his feet. Grimmjow followed his lead and snagged hold of the other traitor, practically throwing the man forward and in the direction of the Don's chambers. They left the dead man lay on the cold tile floor, a pool of deep crimson slowly growing around his motionless form. Szayel's clean up crews would take care of the body later.

The last of the walk through the mansion was quiet. If the small commotion caused by the now dead man's escape attempt awakened any of Shirosaki's family, they went unnoticed by the hitmen as they hurried along, leading the traitors to their reaper.

As had been expected, Shirosaki was waiting for them. He'd calmed himself enough to not shoot on sight when Ichigo and Grimmjow knocked upon his door and led the rats into his space. A disgusted sneer spread across his ghostly features as he looked from the stabbed man to the uninjured one. The door closed behind them like the condemning slam of iron gates, like the death sentence of a gunshot.

"Only two of 'em?" Shirosaki asked, his voice calm, revealing nothing.

"There was a third. He didn't make it."

The Don nodded, trusting his right hand men's judgement and actions. If they went against his orders, they clearly had good reasoning for it. His oddly colored eyes took in the dark stain spreading out across the first traitor's pants. It didn't take much effort to realize what had happened. Grimmjow's knife.

With confident, almost careless motions, he pulled a gun out and shot the injured man between the eyes. The traitor's head jerked back as the bullet punched through his skull and drove a hole through his brain. Neither Ichigo nor Grimmjow so much as flinched as the sound of the gunshot echoed through the large space of the Don's sitting area. Nor did they react as the man collapsed, dead before he hit the floor.

With the slightest of smiles, Shirosaki casually replaced his gun back where it had been hidden before, and turned to the still living traitor. "Now then, shall we get started?"

"N-no...no...Oh god help me..." The man stuttered over his terrified words, trying to back away from the Don. He didn't make it far as he bumped into the family's most infamous killer. The savage growl that rumbled through Grimmjow's chest had the man spinning to look and jolting away, only to spin another circle as he realized the dangerous boss was now behind him. He was surrounded, trapped in a room with the three most dangerous men in all of the city.

Three hours later, the man had screamed himself horse. He'd screamed and cried until his voice came out as nothing stronger than a raw, low whisper. His features were already growing black and blue. The awkward angle at which he held one of his arms promised that it was broken and the purple ligature marks around his throat made it a wonder that the cartilage of his trachea wasn't crush and he could still breath.

Grimmjow pushed the man back to the ground and kicked him over to where the Don stood, hands in his pockets. The pale man puffed out a blue ring of smoke and bent to fist one hand into the man's hair, his white knuckles bloodied and raw. He jerked the man up to his knees, grunting a harsh sound at the pathetic whimpering from the traitor. Cigarette perched between his colorless lips, he held out his free hand and a black, canvas bag was handed to him.

"Time ta take out the trash." He hummed, yanking the bag over the man's head and so blinding him. Grimmjow and Ichigo both grasped the man's arms and hauled him to his feet, roughly shoving him toward the door and out into the hall.

The commotion within the Don's private rooms had gone unnoticed, his walls and door sound proof for obvious reasons. Because of that and the odd hour, the hallways were mostly empty as Shirosaki pulled out his phone and dialed the doctor's number. Szayel answered right away, having obviously been awaiting the call. Shiro told him to have a clean up crew tidy up his suite and find the body the boy's had left behind in the hall, then he hung up.

Their captive, one of the men that had dared go against Don Shirosaki and his powerful operation, the only one that had survived, was locked away in the mansion's basement. For nearly a week, Shirosaki pondered on what to do with the man and then acquired what he would need. In that time, Grimmjow and Ichigo paid the pest regular visits. To their surprise, it actually took nearly a full day to break him and get him talking. When he did, he spilled everything.

He couldn't tell them much, but they hadn't really expected he would be able to. He was low on the tier, and never spoke to his higher ups directly, but rather by phone or through a messenger. The one thing of note he could tell the two hitmen, however, was that the person he worked under was claiming to have been high up on the chain of command within Aizen's family and that idea left a sour taste in the Hunter's and the Handler's mouths.

Finally, after that week, the Don made a personal visit again. His white dress shoes crunched against gritty, stained concrete as he walked up to the rat's holding cell; a small, furnished room with a couch and television, both of which were out of the man's reach where he'd been chained to the opposite wall. Shirosaki's pale hands were stuffed down in his pockets, but the grin on his features showed he had something special planned. He didn't bother addressing the man directly as his phone rang in his pocket, and simply grinned as he stared the traitor down.

Answering with a lilting and sing-song, "'Ello~" his grin only grew as the driver to his personal car spoke in a quiet, polite voice on the other end. His vehicle would be waiting for them outside by the time he and the first team dragged the traitor from his cell.

The bag was replaced, blinding the man from everything around him. He was dragged from the basement, through the halls and outside. The men holding him weren't kind and he stumbled his way down the wide staircase to the drive where the Don's white car awaited them.

The driver bowed as he pulled the side door open. The Don slid in first, followed by Ichigo. Grimmjow shoved the soon to be dead man in, handing him over to his partner as he himself climbed in behind the man. Ichigo settled himself beside the traitor, their boss seated across from and facing the Handler. Grimmjow happily sat across from the rat, that wide, manic grin stretching across his handsome features and baring his straight teeth as his blue eyes anchored to the man's covered features.

Instructions had already been handed out earlier, so the driver had no need to ask and simply closed the door behind his higher ups and their unfortunate guest. Crossing around in front of the vehicle, the silent man climbed back into the driver's seat and soon the expensive vehicle was slowly coasting down the drive. The car took a right, heading even further from the city.

They drove for nearly an hour, the inside of the cab mostly silent as they passed open country side. At one point, they pulled from the main road and headed down a seemingly endless, one lane back road filled with potholes and dips. The vehicle's shocks and heavy body insured the ride was still comfortable for the Don and his men, but their traitor seemed to grow ever more nervous, as he should.

Finally, the driver slowed as they neared their destination, pulling the white vehicle off the back country road and down a long, gravel drive. The usual rough sound from driving on anything rougher than blacktop was absent, the bulletproof windows and shell of the Don's car enough to deaden the sound but the ride got a bit rougher, just enough to announce that they had left the main road.

Sitting diagonally across from Don Shiro, the albino's captive dared utter a sound: a sort of undignified and terrified squeak as he pulled at his bindings. As expected, the rope didn't budge and the man didn't go anywhere. His chest rose and fell in short, panicked breaths below his disheveled and wrinkled suit, the same suit he'd been wearing for a week, his head lowered slightly and his body hunched forward.

Finally, Shirosaki's unnerving eyes strayed to Ichigo, where the Handler sat at the captive's side. With a curt nod, he gave Ichigo the silent command to remove the black canvas bag that had been pulled over the man's head and face, exposing him to the light of day and a very frightening view.

Where he sat across from the man, leaning back with all the ease of a lounging predator and a not a care in the world, Grimmjow's classic, wicked grin pulled at the Hunter's lips. His icy blue eyes swirled with a chaotic need for blood, never leaving the poor man's figure. His silver handled butterfly dagger twirled absently between the long fingers of one hand, filling the otherwise silent cabin with a soft, almost melodious whirring and snicking.

The man stuttered something behind the black cloth wadded and jammed in his mouth, the sound muffled and desperate and pleading; music to the men he found himself in the company of. His wide eyes darted away from the blue haired beast and landed upon the high ranking Don. The epitome of calm, the albino leaned back comfortably in his seat, one leg crossed over the knee of the other. His long ashen hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, a few strands falling loose to be swept back behind his ear. The white suit he wore was pristine as always but his jacket had been discarded to reveal a white, almost silvery vest and a dark violet, silk button up. He slowly, almost carelessly rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, his black nailed fingers deftly unbuttoning the sleeve cuffs, as he watched his captive with an unwavering and unforgiving gaze.

As the man stared at Shiro with wide, frightened eyes, knowing he wouldn't be walking away from this encounter, the car was eased to a stop. A quiet, polite rapping sounded on the tinted partition before the driver pushed it aside an inch to speak. "We have arrived, Sir."

"Excellent." Shirosaki's grin showed in his lilting voice. The engine was turned off and the driver quickly but gracefully made his way around to open the door for his boss. Bowing, he held it while Shiro exited and straightened, smoothing his vest out as he did.

Rounding his now mud splattered vehicle, the Don watched Grimmjow climb from the car and yank their captive to his feet. Hands secured behind his back, the man nearly fell into the big Hunter and a petrified squeak of a sound rose from his throat as Grimmjow leered down at him, all bared teeth and viscous gleaming intent.

The albino chuckled, patting Ichigo on the shoulder as the Handler climbed from the car behind the captive. He received an amused smirk in return but he didn't miss the way Ichigo's deep brown eyes strayed his partner's imposing form.

"Shall we get started, then?" He asked, his watery tone almost too casual, too at ease with all that was about to happen. Death was a simple thing for the powerful man, a hobby, a by product of running one of the most successful crime families around. His confidence and casualness helped to further put their guest on edge and the man's legs shook as he was led forward.

Just ahead of them, the remnants of an abandoned barn stood in the middle of a vast, over grown yard. Dilapidated and gnarled, half of it had collapsed, the weathered wood splintered and rotting. The other half stood mostly intact, holes in the roof letting streaming sunlight in to push back some of the shadows while the opening created by the caved-in other half yawned like a gaping maw full of jagged, wooden teeth. In the distance, an abandoned farm house stood silhouetted by the sun, the windows shattered and shutters hanging askew.

As they approached the barn, the captive in Grimmjow's vice hold breathing like he was about to have a full blown panic attack, the braying and stamping of horses could be heard. The man's steps faltered as his feet hit the old, cracked and torn up concrete of the barn's floor, his legs nearly buckling under him. He tried desperately to beg and plead through his gag but the sound only brought a small smile to Shirosaki's ashen features.

"I didn't know you had horses, Sir." Ichigo said cheerfully enough, at ease and more than familiar with the Don's business deals. Though the horses were certainly out of the norm.

"I didn'!" Shiro chuckled, his lilting tone amused as they crossed the barn's threshold and four black stallions, all held in separate, dilapidated stalls, came into view. Big heads turned toward the newcomers as the stallions poked their noses out to watch, white leather halters and tack standing out starkly against their dark coats. "I jus' acquired 'em special for our lil guest here. I always did like the old medieval type a stuff, so I thought I'd give it try. Mix it up a lil."

The man Shiro was interrogating began struggling in Grimmjow's grip, digging his heals in and trying to pull away. Frightened tears tracked his face and he shook his head, still desperately trying to plead and beg his way out of his situation. He found no pity, nor escape and Grimmjow simply yanked him forward and threw him to the ground in the middle of the old barn.

The man landed on his knees, nearly falling flat before he managed to catch his balance. Breathing heavily through his nose in his panic the man clumsily spun about, not even bothering to climb back to his feet. The space was large, the concrete floor barren save for the dirt and some debris from the less than great condition of the barn. Several yards behind him, a solid wall blocked his escape, to either side, the stalls and the stallions and before him stood the Don and his men.

Shirosaki casually tucked his hands away inside the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels as he looked down at the man. Flanked by his prized Hunter and Handler, one on either side of him, he looked the part of dangerous and intimidating killer. Letting the heavy silence stretch, Shiro's grin slowly slid across his startling features and the man kneeling before him began whimpering anew.

Around them, the horses snorted and tossed their manes.

Inverted gold on black eyes slid Grimmjow's way. The Hunter's own unnerving gaze matched the Don's and at the pale man's nod, Grimmjow crossed the dozen or so feet that separated them from the target. When the man shied back, trying to get out of Grimmjow's range, the Hunter snarled and reached down, yanking the man's head back by his hair. A twisted smirk on his angular features, he pulled the wadded black fabric from the man's mouth, lip curling slightly when he found it damp. Dropping the cloth gag to the dirty ground, he backed away again and returned to the Don's side.

"Ya know wha' it means ta be Drawn an' Quartered?" Don Shirosaki asked before the man could begin his pleading in earnest.

A hesitant shake of the head was his answer. Shiro's smirk slid across his features like oil on water, just as black and tainted, as the man quivered before him. Without the need for prompting, Grimmjow and Ichigo played their parts perfectly and began gathering the rope that the Don had had delivered with the horses.

"Like I said before, it's a medieval method a' torture. Basically, I'm ganna have my boys here tie these ropes ta ya, one around each ankle and each wrist. The other end a the ropes get tied ta my shiny new horses and we get ta see how far ya stretch b'fore things start ta tear."

The man's eyes had grown wide during Shiro's explanation, like they were about to roll from their sockets. He shook his head side to side, "N-no, no...please, no..." tumbling from his trembling lips in a whisper, over and over and over.

"I always wondered wha' it would look like, for real, ya know. Not the fake movie graphics." Shirosaki continued as though the man said nothing. To either side, Grimmjow and Ichigo began nearing the man with calm and unhurried steps. They kept a close eye to the man's every movement, insuring the safety of their boss while they worked. "Never really knew tha' much 'bout horses, but wit' the internet, it's not hard ta learn jus' 'bout anythin'. Turns out they're even stronger than they look, and damn, they're sure as hell big." He tilted his head slightly, the tail of his hair falling over one shoulder while he eyed the man still kneeling on the ground. "I bet it hurts real bad, bein' ripped inta pieces by a bunch a giant animals at a walkin' pace. Bet ya feel every joint stretchin' and poppin', every muscle tearin'...then, a'course, comes yer skin. Best part is tha' yer still ganna be alive when yer body falls back ta the ground, limbs torn from ya..."

Shiro chuckled as a shiver worked down his spine and he pulled his hands from his pockets. "This is ganna be fun, ain't it?"

"Y-you wont get away with this!" The man all but screamed, his voice high pitched and uneven in his fear.

The rope binding his hands behind his back was cut, only to be replaced by the lengths the Don's men had brought over. The man struggled and pulled against his captures, but he was no match for the strength of the famed hunter and while Ichigo went to begin leading the horses from their stalls, Grimmjow made sure their victim wouldn't be fleeing anytime soon.

Once the ropes of both wrists were secured to their appointed horse, Grimmjow released his hold and began helping his partner secure the man's ankles. He fought the whole time, as was to be expected, kicking and screaming and begging to be spared. But once again, he found no pity and somewhere in the back of his panic stricken mind, he had to know he wouldn't. Don Shirosaki held a reputation for being ruthless and cut-throat. He spared no one who got in his way and if someone was actually stupid enough to cross him, it was guaranteed that the albino would find out who. The unfortunate soul could only hope that the man's prized hunter would loose control and end things quickly, before being dragged back to the Don's home. But Grimmjow was too good for that.

A solid hit laid the man flat and before he could begin struggling, the horses were slowly walking outward and away from each other. They stamped their hooves, pawing at the concrete and snorting through flared nostrils when the ropes were pulled tight enough to nearly lift the man from the ground.

"Ya know, if ya wan'ed ta take pictures a me naked, all ya had ta do was ask." The Don watched without a trace of discomfort or pity in his strange eyes. "It's a shame, really, tha' ya were workin' wit' 'em. Ya did nice work, good quality. I probably would a even paid ya ta take more later."

"They'll find you!" The man screamed desperately as the horses paused but continued to pull at the insistence of the men handling them. The ropes creaked as they pulled even tighter. The man's face reddened, tears tracking his features as he screamed his pain. Joints popped with audible and cringe worthy snaps as his knees, elbows, shoulders and more were dislocated. Still the man shouted and threatened, much to the Don's amusement. "I have friends in high places! They're looking for me! They'll find you, you'll never get away with this!"

"I hope they do." Shirosaki's lilting laughter filled the dilapidated barn with an eerie music. "It'll save me the trouble a huntin' 'em down."

Flesh stretched to it's limit, turning purple before the onlookers' eyes before being pulled beyond it's breaking point. Blood dripped to the floor from the man's elbows and knees. The cartilage and ligaments holding the spinal column in place gave way, snapping and stretching with a series of sick grinding sounds and more screaming. More blood pooled below where the man was suspended above the ground, stretched to his body's limits, skin and muscle beginning to tear.

One of the horses spooked at another wordless, pain filled scream, rearing up slightly and consequently surging forward. The jolt was enough to dislocate the man's hip before the knee joint gave out completely and the horse was freed, taking the man's lower leg with it.

Shirosaki watched as the horse pranced to the back of the barn, dragging the bloody limb with it. Then his gaze panned back to the still living man. His screaming had stopped as shock overrode his system and began shutting his bodily functions done. He breathed in sharp, shallow gasps, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling almost sightlessly. Blood pooled below his still suspended body, dripping from countless gashes caused by the strain and over-stretching.

"Huh. Well the movies got one thing right." The Don said, casually stuffing his hands back in his pockets as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "There's definitely more blood from a ragged wound than a clean one from yer knife, Grimm."

The big hunter snorted a laugh, a crazed grin stretching his handsome features. His vivid blue eyes shown with a hunger that the Don and his handler understood well. "Is that a challenge, boss?"

"I know better 'en ta make a bet I'd lose," The Don chuckled. "but I'm willin' ta guess Ichi wouldn' complain if ya tried."

Inverted gold and intense cyan strayed over to Ichigo and a small but very telling smirk tried to twitch to life on the orange haired man's features. His ears darkened to a rosy shade, along with the bridge of his nose, but he nodded his agreement all the same, brown eyes darting to the growing pool below the dying man.

A shark grin ripped across Grimmjow's features and he crossed the space of the barn's floor, hardly noticing the Don, to stand directly in front of Ichigo. Before the handler could utter a word, big hands grasped his hips, pulling him flush to the sculpted hunter's body. A heated gaze and leering smile told Ichigo exactly what was on his partner's mind at that moment, just before his lips were captured in a bruising and possessive kiss.

"Guess tha' means it's 'bout time ta go." Shiro sing-songed and walked over to the man that had once upon a time gotten in his way. An arm had been pulled loose sometime during his hitmen's little display but the man was either already dead or had passed out. It didn't matter much either way and the Don was happy enough with how the execution had gone.

Rather than checking to make sure the man was dead, the albino pulled his handgun from the waste band of his pants, aimed it between the man's eyes and pulled the trigger. The horses spooked slightly at the unexpected sound, their ears flicking about and big eyes rolling. The Don's team went about removing the ropes and putting the animals back in their stalls.

"What are you going to do with them, Sir?" Ichigo asked, a husky edge to his tone that no one pointed out.

The albino smirked as he thought for a moment. "I kinda like 'em. I think I'll higher someone ta build stables behind the mansion."

Both Grimmjow and Ichigo paused mid step, ceasing mid task, and turned to stare at their boss.

"What?" The albino looked from one to the other, a slightly perplexed expression on his ashen features.

The two hitmen shook their heads in dismissing motions and turned away from the man, quickly finishing the few tasks their less than spotless cleanup required. When they were done, the body remained where it had been, the rope still attached to the ankles and wrists. A trailer would be brought by later to pick up the horses and the corpse would be left to rot until it was found. By then, animals and insects would have helped nature along and there wouldn't be enough hard evidence left for anyone to make a connection back to the Don.

Shiro left the barn, a wicked smirk firmly affixed to his features. His two top men followed closely behind.

* * *

**Thoughts? Gotta love everybody's favorite handful of killers, right?**


End file.
